Namor wants to burn the world, but he needs help to do it. He's in search of ancient magic that is rumored to be in Wakanda...in the form of a woman who doesn't know the power she possesses. Or at least she pretends not to.
There are 'smutty' scene...
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The island was remote. Not on any known maps and completely uninhabited. Namor and Rhiannon set foot onto the powdery white sands and he released her, leaving her put to do a quick survey of the place. She watched him hover above the small strip of land. It was in the midst of the clearest waters so blue and inviting, she wished to dive in.
But she couldn't. At least not without his permission. Yes, she was still there. A sliver of her will was yet intact as it always was since she locked the third spirit out. The charm she placed on herself several years ago was starting to show it's age though, wearing down in the places she needed it to remain strong. She knew it was only a matter of time before she needed another sacrifice.
Rhiannon didn't like to talk about the spell she required to keep the third Old Spirit from finding her. So alot of those memories, she repressed or pretended to forget. The altars, the blood, the innocent lives all used for her. To keep her from warping into a planet eater. That's what she would become. She could feel it in her bones and blood, the screaming of the two Old Spirits waiting for their sibling so they could reap the destruction they planned on this earth. She wouldn't let them. Rhiannon knew when the first one entered her, they'd lied to her about their intentions. She'd hoped they lied to her about how she came to be in this world as well, but that seemed the only truth they were capable of. So, she accepted the fact that she wasn't born, but made by these entities so dark that they could not inhabit human skin or build bodies of the earth because even in those places, light was let in. These things, these malicious beings were thick, gooey darkness that stuck to her insides like tar.
So, though her spell eroded and weakened, her connection with Namor held her together in those places to keep the third spirit from finding her. And as long as he was there, she was subject to his will, but safe from that final spirit that would consume her absolutely.
Rhiannon wondered how long it would take for Namor to feel the effects of her tugging at the life he had. She knew that he was aware of her needs, but he didn't seem to care. Perhaps he didn't understand that though he'd lived for centuries, he was still human. A mutant human, but mortal. And he could, though he didn't want to admit it, die. And she, though she had no desire to, could kill him.
She waited, her toes digging into the soft sand. Her blue hair still moving on that eternal breeze. The longer she was in his presence, the more she would change. Her hair would begin to darken and even mimic a style similar to his. Her skin would take on the same bronze hue and her eyes would intensify and brown to accomplish the same intimidating gaze. Her ears had already formed into points like his. She would eventually take on some of his personality traits as well, which made her a bit anxious. Namor showed signs of being a bit unhinged at times, indicative of someone who lived life isolated and worshipped like a god. It unnerved her, but it also...attracted her. She wondered if he would find her attractive then?
"We are safe," Namor said as he approached her. He landed on the soft sand in front of her and jammed his spear into the white earth beneath his feet. He lifted her chin and stared into her silver eyes. "You can see me, can't you?"
